The Intern Regrets Pushing Me Too Hard

The next day, the Thanksgiving team dinner was held in a banquet hall at an upscale hotel.

Clark, flushed from alcohol and holding a glass in hand, was delivering yet another speech about "unity" and "team cohesion".

I sat in a corner, quietly eating, trying to make myself invisible.

After a few rounds of drinking, the banquet hall doors opened. Hotel staff wheeled in a cart stacked with beautifully packaged tart gift boxes.

Davin was the first to rush up, open one, and hold it high. "Wow! Everyone, look! Mixed nut tarts! These must be expensive."

My heart sank. Mixed nuts such as walnuts, almonds, and melon seeds… Those were all a disaster for me. Especially walnuts. Even touching them could give me hives. I didn't even want to imagine what would happen if I ate one.

Meanwhile, my colleagues crowded forward to grab the boxes, opening them up and sharing the tarts on the spot. Praise filled the room.

"Mr. Rackham has great taste. These look amazing!"

"This is much more meaningful than 800 bucks."

I lowered my head, hoping no one would notice me. But of course, that didn't happen.

Davin walked straight over to me, holding a plate of tarts, his smile sickeningly sweet. "Fabian, why aren't you eating? We all gave up our bonuses for these. Try some. They're really good!"

He nudged the plate closer. A tart full of nuts stared right at me.

I clenched my hands, forcing a stiff smile. "Thanks, but I'm not really into sweet stuff."

"Oh, come on! Whether you like it or not, you should at least try a bite." His voice rose, drawing everyone's attention. "These tarts represent our department's collective pride. Fabian, you're not going to disrespect everyone like that, are you?"

The words "collective pride" pressed down on me like a weight.

Clark walked over, glass in hand, and patted my shoulder. "Fabian, Davin is right. It's just a gesture—a show of appreciation. Everyone's eating. What does it look like if you're the only one who doesn't? Don't kill the mood."

The others chimed in.

"Yeah, Fabian. It's just one bite."

"Don't be such a party pooper. Let's all have a good time."

"You're not still mad about the 800 dollars, are you? That's petty."

Everyone surrounded me. It felt like I was on trial, and my crime was being a "party pooper".

I took a deep breath, making one last attempt. "Mr. Rackham, I'm allergic to walnuts. I really can't eat it."

For a second, the room fell silent. Then, Davin burst into exaggerated laughter. "Fabian, that excuse is so old. Last time, it was alcohol. Now, it's walnuts. Next time, you'll tell us you're allergic to water."

He turned to Clark, looking aggrieved. "Mr. Rackham, I'm just trying to help Fabian fit in. Why would he lie like this just to reject everyone's kindness?"

Clark's expression darkened. He looked at me with disappointment. "Fabian, I didn't expect this from you. Making up lies like this just to throw a tantrum."

He then shoved a tart into my hand, his tone firm. "Today, you're eating this tart whether you want to or not. This is about attitude."